One and a-two and a-three and a-four and a This feeling of spring
Like the wing of a bird that is flying
The nights they go cold as my mind does go old
And I'm looked at, inspected, hated, accepted The wise men they wrangle
Their minds look for angles and meaning
(Meaning)
But the ceiling is light as I glide
Through the night and I'm leaving
Living, being, mmm, mmm, mmm
